Brooklyn Bounce Read online

  “I’m mostly interested in the one that faces out front, toward the roadway.”

  “Okay, that’s camera number two,” she said, pulling it up. “How far back do you want to go?”

  “Take me back to Friday evening,” he said. “Around five o’clock.”

  The woman tapped a few keys and hit enter. A moment later a color shot of the parking lot appeared along with a clear view of the main road; much to Antonucci’s relief.

  “Hit the ‘S’ key to begin playing,” Lacy said, as she got up from the chair. “Then use the left and right arrow keys to speed up or slow down the video. The system is also hooked up to the printer; so if you see something just hit the ‘P’ key and it will pause the video. If you want a screen shot all you have to do is select the printer icon.”

  “Thank you,” Antonucci said, as he sat down in the chair.

  Outside, the door chime rang, indicating that someone had entered the store.

  “Ah, duty calls,” the woman said, giving him a wink. “If there’s anything else you need, you just let me know.”

  “I will,” he said with a smile.

  Antonucci watched her leave and then turned his attention back to the computer monitor. He removed a pad out of his jacket pocket and noted the initial time on the playback display and then hit the ‘S’ button.

  The picture quality was exceptionally good; a lot better than some of the stuff he was used to viewing back in New York. It seemed as if technology in this market was improving by leaps and bounds each day. The primary focus of the camera was on the parking lot, but he could still make out the cars moving along the roadway just beyond it. Even as the sun set, the streetlights provided enough ambient light to make viewing easy.

  It might seem to be a mundane thing, but staring at a video screen was certainly not an easy thing to do, especially when it came to monitoring security cameras. It wasn’t as bad when there was activity taking place, but after a prolonged period of time behind the screen, watching corridors or other areas with little movement, the viewer simply stopped seeing things. They suffered a type of burnout, where the mind checked out and the eyes no longer saw anything. It always struck him as odd that a state of the art security system could be defeated by a bored, minimum wage guard sitting too long behind a video screen.

  As a rule, Antonucci made himself get up every fifteen minutes to shake off any cobwebs before they could take hold. It took longer to review video this way, but it helped him not to miss anything.

  He scanned the video feed, watching as the clock slowly advanced, looking for anything that stood out. The color imaging certainly helped, as it allowed him to differentiate vehicles by color. By ten o’clock the traffic had died down to nearly nothing and after midnight the only thing he saw on a regular basis was some wildlife.

  “How ya doing, sugar?”

  Antonucci looked up from the screen to see Lacy standing in the doorway.

  “I’m doing fine,” he responded.

  “Your friends dropped this off,” she replied, handing a Styrofoam cup to him. “They said they were going to take a ride to look at something, but that they’d be in the area if you needed them.”

  “Okay, thanks,” he said, taking the container.

  “Find anything useful yet?” she asked. “This place doesn’t have much traffic during daytime this time of year; so I can’t imagine there is a whole lot when the sun goes down.”

  “No, but I still have a little ways to go,” he replied. “So I’m still holding out hope.”

  “Well if you need anything, you just call me,” Lacy said with a suggestive smile.

  “I will,” Antonucci replied.

  She was certainly the free spirit type, he thought. Wasn’t that the state’s motto? Live Free or Die.

  The clock slowly counted down toward the time they had gotten the cell phone ping and then passed by. After about ten minutes of no activity on the roadway Antonucci began to worry that he had missed something or, even worse, that there simply was nothing more to see.

  Any detective would tell you that time was never your friend and this was especially true in missing person investigations. Every passing minute potentially put you further away from your potential victim. Absent alien abduction, people didn’t just vanish off the face of the earth. There was always a reason, a motive, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

  In this case, the former was certainly an option. The shooting would have weighed heavily on her mind. The prospect of facing a trial, and possibly an extended prison sentence, was certainly a great motivator to make any cop think about vanishing, but her case had only been in the investigative stage. Disappearing was usually seen as a glaring admission of guilt and most folks would have waited to at least see what direction the case was going before they took such a drastic step

  If it was the latter, and her disappearance had been unintentionally on her part, then she was a victim and they desperately needed something, even the slightest clue, to formulate a direction to move in. Aside from the cell phone ping, they simply had nothing.

  Well, that wasn’t true, he thought.

  They had her keys, her wallet, her gun, her car, her clothes. The fact was that they had everything except her; which brought him back to his belief that her disappearance was an abduction.

  As Antonucci stared at the screen, the image suddenly began to grow brighter. A car came around the bend in the road and into the camera’s view. He saw two figures sitting in the front seat and then it was gone. He hit the pause button and then rewound it; watching as the tan colored Volvo came slowly back into view.

  He could make out the vehicle’s manufacturer from the distinctive emblem on the front grill. It was a type of vehicle he’d seen several times before, in his short stay up here, and he noted that the passenger appeared to be a woman with blonde hair, but as he looked closer he could make out that she appeared to be much younger than Alex. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell who was driving because of a glare on the windshield from the street light out front. Still, he had little else to go on so he enlarged the image and wrote down the license plate. When he was done he took a sip of coffee and went back to reviewing the remainder of the tape.

  A half hour later he closed out the program and gathered his stuff up. He sent a text message to Maguire saying he was ready to be picked up and headed out front.

  “Find what you were looking for, hon?” Lacy asked.

  “Maybe,” he replied. “Do you know who uses a green colored license plate?”

  “Yeah, Vermont,” she replied. “Why?”

  “I saw a Volvo with green plates in the video and I was just wondering. I guess they aren’t uncommon.”

  “Not really, unfortunately,” Lacy said sarcastically. “They’re just a bunch of hippie border jumpers. They’re not happy unless they are sowing the seeds of their liberal nonsense over here.”

  “I take it you’re not a fan,” Antonucci replied with a laugh.

  “Eh, they’re okay, just a little misguided on most things,” she said. “We probably view them about the same way a New Yorker feels about someone from New Jersey.”

  “Touché,” he replied.

  “Well, if you ever come up when you’re not working, look me up,” she said, handing him her business card. “My private cell phone number is on the back. I’d be happy to show you around the back woods.”

  “I’ll do that,” Antonucci said, accepting the card from her. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime, hon.”

  Antonucci slid the card into his pocket and walked outside, just as the patrol car was pulling into the parking lot.

  “Tell me you found something,” Maguire said from the passenger seat.

  “Not sure, boss,” he replied, climbing into the back seat. “I was able to pull off an image of a car passing through at around the approximate time, but it’s too grainy to make out the occupants.”

  Antonucci handed the photo up to Maguire who looked at it and then
passed it along to Hutch.

  “Can you run the plate for me, Hutch?” Antonucci asked.

  Hutch looked at the photo and began to enter the information into the in-car computer system.

  A moment later he let out a sigh. “System is down for maintenance.”

  “Timing is everything,” Maguire replied. “Any idea how long before it’s back up?”

  “Probably too long,” Hutch said, as he pulled out his cell phone, “but we have a back-up plan.”

  He dialed a number from memory and listened to it ring.

  “Hey Vanessa, its Hutch,” he said when the call connected. “I need a favor from you.”

  There was a pause and Maguire could hear the soft, muffled sound of a female voice. Then he noticed the man’s face redden slightly.

  “No, not now, Vee,” he said, the words coming out with a slight stammer. “I’m working a case with some investigators and our computer system is down. I need you to run a Vermont plate for me.”

  Again Maguire could hear the voice on the other end of the line; a bit louder this time.

  “No, no, it’s okay,” Hutch replied and read off the tag number. “Call me as soon as you have something.”

  “Friend of yours?” Maguire asked, as the man ended the call.

  “Vanessa? Oh yeah, she’s a sergeant with the Vermont State Police. We worked a case together last year.”

  “It’s good to have close personal connections you can reach out to when the need arises.”

  “Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “She’s on her way into work right now; she said she’ll run it as soon as she gets there.”

  In the back seat Antonucci looked out the window, a smile growing on his face.

  Guess they figured out how to overcome that whole state rivalry thing, he thought.

  “Well, I guess all we can do now is wait,” Maguire replied.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “What about last night?” Susan said coolly.

  “That’s probably something you should ask her about.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “I don’t do the whole kiss and tell thing.”

  “Answer the goddamn question, bitch!” Susan said, exploding in a fit of rage. “Before you’re no longer capable of answering.”

  “What do you want to know?” Alex screamed back. “That your girlfriend has roving hands? That while you were conveniently sound asleep that she passed the time with me getting reacquainted.”

  The look on Susan’s face was dark and menacing, as she processed the information. Alex knew she had to tread carefully at this point. Baiting the girl was one thing, but now that she had set the hook it could go wrong very quickly and she was in no position to fend her off.

  Alex knew that she had to maneuver Susan’s anger away from her and direct it back toward Tatiana. That wasn’t necessarily an easy thing to do, but it could be accomplished. You just had to know which buttons to push.

  Most people were familiar with the phenomenon known as Stockholm Syndrome, which got its name from a bank robbery that took place in 1973 in the Swedish city of Stockholm. It is a condition by which victims can develop loyalty, sympathy and even affection for a captor. This is especially true if the captor provided them a moment of compassion which the captive, under extreme duress, views as a genuine sign of affection.

  Additionally, a condition known as Lima Syndrome does occasionally occur, although it is a considerably rarer phenomenon. In that instance, the roles are reversed and it is the captor who develops empathy for their captor. The condition was named after an abduction in 1996 at the Japanese ambassador’s residence in Lima, Peru. While the overall siege had lasted four months, the terrorists had actually set free most of their captives within days. In the end, the terrorists, who were supposed to kill the remaining hostages, in the event of an assault, could not bring themselves to do it and were killed by Peruvian commandoes.

  The key was finding that right empathetic button and pushing it.

  “Look, Susan,” Alex said, “whatever you think about me, I’m not your enemy.”

  “It sure as hell looks that way to me,” Susan said smugly.

  “Look at me,” Alex said. “I’m tied to a goddamn bed. I couldn’t do anything to resist even if I wanted to.”

  Susan stared at her quietly.

  “I didn’t come into your bedroom last night, whispering sweet nothings in your girlfriend’s ear, and fondle her. She came in here. I was as much of victim as you were.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Apparently she has some serious long range plans for the two of us and, if I were you, I’d be a little concerned.”

  “I don’t have to worry about anything,” Susan replied softly.

  “Really?” Alex asked. “I applaud your resolve. It’s fucking naïve, but that’s your cross to bear. Personally, I’d be a little worried when my girlfriend is knocking me out so she can spend time with her new piece of ass.”

  “Knocking me out? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Seriously?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Jesus Christ, Susan,” Alex shot back. “Don’t be such a friggin’ idiot. She drugged you last night.”

  “Bullshit! You’re making this shit up!”

  “Oh yeah, it’s all me, sweetheart, because you two certainly don’t have any fucking trust issues,” Alex replied. “Oh wait, yes you do, starting with the fact that she knew about me all along and lied to you about it. Then you conveniently get so sleepy that you pass out while she’s in here copping a feel. You’re right, my bad, it’s all just mere coincidence.”

  Susan sat there, jaw clenching, as she silently carved another slice of the apple. Alex knew the gears were spinning so fast that they could easily come off the rails at any moment.

  “Listen, Susan, I know you have your own shit to deal with, but you have to come to terms with the fact that this isn’t going to end well for either of us.”

  “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  “You ever hear the old saying two is company, three is a crowd?” Alex asked. “Right now you’re about to take on the role of a third wheel and you don’t seem like the type of person who is into sloppy seconds.”

  “The way you tell it, it seems like you’re going to be just fine, so why worry about me?”

  “Because I envision myself being in your place one day.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tatiana wants me, but she knows she can’t trust me. You see the way I am? This is my life. She’ll have her fun with me when she wants to and then one day she’ll move on.”

  “So what, now I’m supposed to have empathy for you?” Susan asked sarcastically.

  “We’re on the same side here,” Alex replied. “We are both being played.”

  “The same side?” Susan said with a laugh. “How the hell do you figure that? You’re a cop, I’m a killer.”

  “Well, to be brutally honest, there’s nothing wrong with killing,” Alex replied. “Just as long as the right people get killed.”

  “You’ve seen some of my work,” Susan replied. “I’m not making it into heaven anytime soon.”

  “Yeah, I have and you’re probably right, but I also know that your damaged goods.”

  “What do you know about damaged goods?”

  “You didn’t get here on your own, Susan, you had a lot of help,” Alex said.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “You may have scrubbed your past, but your father didn’t scrub his.”

  As Alex watched, the color drained in Susan’s face.

  “What,….. How,…….”

  “When the detectives in Yardley closed their case, they had several boxes of your father’s belongings that your siblings had no interest in. They knew I still had an open investigation so they asked if I wanted it. Most of it was junk, but inside there were some old business files and I found an envelope that they
had overlooked. It had a key to a safe deposit box. Your father kept diaries, Susan, I know what he did.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, looking away quickly as she felt her cheeks begin redden.

  “Don’t I? I could never understand the extent of your anger, your rage, but then it all made sense.”

  “What the fuck do you know about my anger?”

  “Because a long time ago I was daddy’s little princess too,” Alex said softy.

  A look of shock came over Susan’s face, chasing away her own anger and shame. “You?”

  Alex simply nodded.

  “But,…… you’re a cop,” Susan said, a stunned look on her face.

  “I was eleven when he first started, Susan,” Alex replied tersely. “It wasn’t like I was in any position to say no to him.”

  Now it was Susan’s turn to nod knowingly.

  “In the beginning it was just affectionate touching, stroking my hair, when he would come into my bedroom to say goodnight. Then one night I woke up to him touching me inside my pajamas. I was shocked, but I was too afraid to say anything so I laid there pretending I was asleep. After that he began making regular trips into my bedroom. At first I didn’t know what to think, but then it kinda felt good. I mean I had hit puberty, so it wasn’t like I hadn’t been seeing and feeling the changes. You know what I mean?”

  “Yeah,” Susan blurted out. “Like you know it’s wrong, but it still feels right.”

  “Exactly,” Alex replied. “So I figured what the fuck, I might as well just enjoy it. I never opened my eyes, so I didn’t actually see what he was doing; I just felt his hands groping me. That all changed the last year of elementary school.”

  “What happened?”

  “The school took us on a field trip to Washington, D.C. He signed up as a class chaperone. Being family, no one batted and eyelash when we shared a hotel room. Looking back it was the perfect opportunity for him.”

  “Fucker,” Susan said angrily.

  “Yeah, he was,” Alex replied. “I just didn’t know that then.”

  “He was just using you.”

  “I know and I hate to admit this, but in a way it made me feel special.”